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by moenochrome



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-15
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2020-05-12 11:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19228555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moenochrome/pseuds/moenochrome
Summary: The first steps to becoming a family.





	Home

“Lieutenant Anderson. Can I… make a personal request?”

Hank stops chewing, lowering his burger so he can raise a curious eyebrow at Connor, “You? Make a request for _yourself?_ Well, shit. Alright, shoot.”

“You see,” Connor begins his request much in the same awkward pre-programmed manner that he often asked Hank personal questions, “CyberLife has issued an eviction order for androids who returned to our CyberLife stations when we’re off-duty. They decided we should no longer be treated like merchandise and exercise our right to own property. In two weeks, I will no longer be permitted on CyberLife grounds without good reason.”

It’s while Hank’s sipping his soda that he glances towards the rapping of Connor’s knuckles against the table, as if the android was playing with some imaginary quarter. He’s overthinking, again.

“So…” Hank swallows another hearty bite of his burger. “Basically, what you’re telling me is that you’re homeless now?”

“Correct. As for my request—”

Hank interrupts immediately, “It’s fine, Connor. You can stay at my place.”

A beat of silence while Connor’s LED cycles from yellow to a steady cool blue, “Thank you, Lieutenant. I just need somewhere to stay until I find new accommodations—”

Hank shook his head, “Stay a month if you have to. Hell, stay forever. Got plenty of space for three.” And to drive the next point home, he takes a long and satisfying sip from his soda, emptying it in one go, “I don’t give a shit.”

(But what he really meant was that he looked forward to it.)

-

It turns out that all of Connor’s “possessions” from CyberLife fit neatly into a suitcase.

“Every android comes with one.” Connor explained as he stepped into Hank’s home and closed the door behind him. At least he came through the front door this time, like a reasonable person. “It comes with an instruction manual as well as some tools for basic maintenance. There is also some biocomponent-compatible sealant for minor cuts and injuries.”

“Didn’t ask for the details, Connor.” Hank said, reaching down to scratch at Sumo’s head. The blunt tone he used was markedly different from the high-pitched affection he then used to address the Saint Bernard at his feet. “Sumo, this is Connor. You remember him, right? ‘Course you do. He’ll be staying with us from now on.” He gives the dog a gentle nudge towards the door, “Say hi, Sumo.”

Sumo does not say hi, but he does run over to Connor, who reaches down to give Sumo some well-deserved head pats.

“Let me show you to your room. Hey—Connor?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

Hank spoke with a strange kind of warmth that Connor had never known before—the kind of warmth that he once sought from Amanda up until he wound up standing alone in the snow. “Welcome home.”

-

Later that night, Connor finds Hank at the kitchen table, “Lieutenant.”

“Hm?” Like he is during most hours of the night, Hank was mildly intoxicated when he responded to Connor. And before Connor could ask, “If you’re gonna ask another one of your damn ‘personal questions.’ Then just come out with it, already.”

“The room I’m taking residence in.” Connor said. “It was Cole’s, right?

Hank sighs and lowers the bottle of whiskey in his hand. He knew that Connor would find out. It didn’t take an android designed for investigation. The walls marked with crayons, the toys shoved hastily into the closet—the truth was clear as day.

“Yeah. It was.”

A poignant silence settles between them, filled only by the distant murmuring of the TV set on low and the occasional snort from a sleeping Sumo.

“Hank, I don’t need a room. If you aren’t comfortable—” Connor spoke with a kind of composure that only pissed Hank off more.

“Can it, Connor.” Hank grumbled.

He wondered what other details Connor must have noticed. Could he analyze that layers of dust and rust and realize that the door hasn’t been opened since Cole’s death? Maybe there were marks on the outside of the door from the many nights he slept with his back to it.

But that night in the Cyberlife warehouse… Hank finally found peace. Finally thought about what he wanted to use that room for.

“Trust me, I want you to have it.”

-

As it turns out, despite the warmth that the word instilled in Connor, home was not a perfect thing.

Still, Connor’s presence alone upped the quality of this place. The numerous trash bags that Hank left piling were removed. All the fur Sumo shed over the years was swept and vacuumed up. No longer were there half-eaten take-out food covering every surface of the house.

Part of it was because Connor actively worked to clean it all up, the other part was Hank getting off his ass when he noticed Connor trying to clean up after him. “Dammit,” he’d say, “I’m not so pathetic that I need someone to do this for me.”

There was just one thing that they couldn’t agree on--

Like clockwork, as soon as nighttime came and Hank decided he’d rather combat sleep than accept that humans were fragile machines that needed rest, he’d reach for the nearest bottle. But this time… “Connor, where the _hell_ is all my whisky?”

“I stored them away.”

“Where’d you put it?”

“That’s confidential, Lieutenant. I am limiting your alcohol consumption.”

“ _Connor._ ” The name was uttered through ground teeth. The lieutenant was absolutely livid, making some kind of agitated gesture with his left hand that might have been an attempt to strangle the android from several feet away. It’s the kind of frustration born from knowing that someone had your best interest at heart, but you still wanted to fill your body with garbage anyway.

“I’ll allow you to drink tomorrow, Hank.” Connor announced with finality.

“Are you _smirking_? Jesus Christ, where’d you learn to be an asshole from?”

Connor smiled at him feelingly.

The man sighed, “Jackass.”

-

“So, you’re sure this isn’t going to hurt you?”

“Androids can’t feel pain, Lieutenant.” Connor said in a matter-of-fact tone.  “However, CyberLife is in the middle of creating software that allows androids to feel the android equivalent to pain if they so choose. In this line of work, it would be foolish of me to opt into it.”

“Huh.” Hank said, with all the interest of someone that didn’t really care for that information. Just another one of CyberLife’s initiatives to right their wrongs and help humanize the androids after the revolution. “Right, well, stay still.”

The LED flickers yellow beneath the paper opener. With a careful flick of his wrist, it falls from Connor’s head only to be caught expertly between two of Connor’s fingers.

“Show-off.” Hank grumbles, eyeing the patch of skin where the LED had been removed from as it regained color. There’s no right way to describe how weird it was to see Connor without that thing blinking away. It was weirder yet to see the faint ghost of a smile on Connor’s lips as he thumbed the LED, but it was a good kind of weird—the kind that had Hank smiling right back down at him.

(And from then on, Connor would play with the LED between his fingers with the same aggravating fluency he had with a quarter. It would piss Hank off, but he didn’t have it in him to snatch this one away from Connor.)

 

This was their new beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had this written months ago but I was too shy to post it, haha!


End file.
